The Real Identity of Draco Malfoy
by Siriuslysherlocked221
Summary: Readers know Draco Malfoy through the eyes of Harry Potter, but does anyone know the real Draco Malfoy? My theory on who Draco really was, and the causes for all his actions. Dramione, rated T because I'm paranoid. Please Read and Review!


YEAR 1

It's my first year at Hogwarts. I anxiously walk stiffly next to Father, who has a painful tight grip on my shoulder. My mother is on the other side of me, walking straight and not once glancing down. I can see her eyes watering slightly; whether from the incident that just happened at home, or the fact that I'm going to Hogwarts, I'm not sure. My heartbeat pounding like a drum beneath my pale skin. Soon, we get onto platform 3 1/4, and my father turns to face me.

"Now, Draco," he starts, a wicked glint in his eye. "You remember what we talked about at home, don't you?"

I fidget, my arms shaking slightly. I can't meet his gaze. "Y-yes, Father. I remember."

Mother's gaze is fixed at the train, not even acknowledging our conversation.

"Good."

_I'm staring at the grand clock in my room at the manor; two more hours until I leave for Hogwarts. To be honest with myself, I wasn't really sure if I wanted to be in Slytherin. All of my relatives were in Slytherin, but most of them are completely horrid. Ever since I was born, my parents and the rest of my family have been brain washing me with the idea of 'mudbloods' and 'filthy muggles' being disgusting and unworthy of going to wizarding schools. I don't believe a single word of it though. I mean, muggles are just like us; they're not scum. Perhaps I can be in Slytherin and still be a good person, like my aunt Andromeda, who was banished from the family for marrying a muggleborn. I am turning these thoughts in my head when I hear a deep voice bellow from downstairs. "DRACO!"_

_I scramble down the stairs, hurrying to please my father. I don't like him or anything, but everytime I do something wrong, like be late when he calls me, I get crucioed. I remember the first time I got tortured by him; I was five years old, and I accidentally mentioned that I talked to a muggle boy at the nearly playground. My father used to spell on me for 10 minutes, while my mother stood at his side, watching with no expression whatsoever on her face. As usual. _

_"Yes Father?" I ask when I reach the family room where he was sitting. He sits on a throne like chair, his cane resting in his palm. _

_"I called you to tell you something." He leans forward, his expression cold and calculating. "You remember Crabbe and Goyle, yes?" _

_I try not to grimace. I have had the 'honor' of seeing them frequently, and they seemed very shallow, gullible, and foolish to me. "Yes, Father."_

_"They, along with other people in Hogwarts, staff and students, will be keeping an eye on you. To make sure that you're...upholding our family virtues. _

_Family virtues my arse. What my family believes in can not be put in the same sentence as 'virtuous'. Basically, what my father mean't was he'll be spying on me even when I'm not with him. More than upset, I was angry; I was actually hoping to make some decent friends at Hogwarts, but if I had to act like an pure-blooded jerk constantly, I could kiss that dream goodbye. A couple of days ago, I met a boy at Diagon Alley, who I pretended not to know. I wanted to be nice to him, but my father was nearby, and...he's not the biggest fan of Harry Potter. I would have been punished so badly if I tried to be nice. _

_I keep a straight face. "I understand Father."_

_"Good. Finish packing. We shall leave in an hour."_

_I manage to control my emotions until I got upstairs, then I burst into tears. Pounding my fists against the bed, I silently curse my father. For my whole life, I had been completely lonely due to my father controlling every bit of my life; now the next seven years of my life will be monitored by him too. _

_"Master Draco? Is Master Draco alright?"_

_I turn around to find our house elf, Dobby, trembling near the door. _

_"Dobby," I try to compose myself quickly, drying the tears with the back of my hand. I hate to be seen crying by anyone, even Dobby. He happens to be my favorite of the house elves, as he was the one to always comfort me when I was in need of comfort. I also know how badly he wants to leave this house. I don't blame him, seeing how Father mistreats him. "I'm fine." _

_Dobby nods. "Mistress Malfoy is calling you down for lunch."_

I board the train quickly, wanting to find a compartment with no one in it. I needed some time to think about my future life at Hogwarts. Just then, a girl my age opens the door to my cabin. She has bushy brown hair, rather large teeth, and is clutching a thick book in one hand.

"Oh, hello. Just wondering if you've seen a small toad anywhere around here. A boy named Neville has lost his."

"Uh.. no. What's your name?"

The girl makes an unsuccessful attempts to smoothen her hair down. "Hermione Granger. Pleased to meet you. You are?"

"Draco Malfoy. Um.. Your last name doesn't sound familiar. You're a mud- muggle born, right?"

Hermione nods vigorously. "That's what he told me- Headmaster Dumbledore, I mean. Why, I was so excited when he told me I was a witch- bit of a shock, really- but Mum and Dad were so pleased- I was actually worried that I wouldn't have any friends here and everyone would think I'm weird, but I'm so glad we are friends now Draco!"

I was about to smile at her constant banter, when I spot Crabbe and Goyle out the compartment window, approaching us. Panicking, I turn to Hermione, faking a cruel sneer that I have unfortunately mastered over my years of pretending to hate muggleborns. "Be friends with you? Are you joking?"

A hurt look crosses her face. "But I thought-"

"What, that I'd actually want to be friends with you? A mudblood?"

She probably had no idea what that vile word meant, but she no doubt understood it was an insult. Her expression changed from hurt to angry. "Fine. I don't want to be friends with you anyway!" Hermione flounced out of the cabin just as Crabbe and Goyle entered.

"Who was that?" Goyle narrows his eyes. Out of the two of them, Goyle is probably a little more intelligent, but still stupid nonetheless.

"Some mudblood girl," I pull out a couple of muffins Dobby packed for me. "Muffin?"

I threw them at the greedy pigs, who started to wolf them down in a second. Meanwhile, I sat down, thinking about Hogwarts and for some reason, Hermione Granger.


End file.
